Reaping What You Sow
by Lord Thingy
Summary: Everything was going great, until the world crumbled around Lizzie McGuire, and who knew exactly what would happen.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
This is just a prologue. Forgive me, I'm fond of prologues.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
Gordo would never lie to me.  
  
That's what everyone says. That's what I believed.  
  
Gordo would never lead me astray.  
  
****  
  
Until he did, of course. I blinked hard, thinking that maybe there was something in my eye, that I wasn't seeing what I was seeing.  
  
But I was. Gordo was in the Digital Bean, in public, kissing Miranda.  
  
Gordo, my boyfriend, kissing Miranda, my best friend, in the Digital Bean, my favorite hang out.  
  
I gasped for air. I must've looked like fish out of water, or something equally if not more pathetic and sorry, because the manager rushed over and said loudly, "Hey, are you okay? Are you choking?"  
  
People looked over now. *They* looked over. They recognized me in a second, and looked confused, concerned, embarrassed, guilty, all at once.  
  
I shook my head. "I can't believe you," I said, very softly, and even though I was halfway across the room, I knew they knew what I said.  
  
I walked out. 


	2. One

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
Gordo and Miranda appeared at my house that evening, clearly staging an intervention of some sort. Trying to save our friendship.  
  
You couldn't save what didn't exist.  
  
I wouldn't talk. I remained firm in that decision I'd made when my mom had first yelled upstairs that Gordo and Miranda were here. I lay on my stomach on my bed, face buried in my pillow. Back exposed, unprotected, waiting for them to twist the knife they'd so heartlessly plunged in there.  
  
"Lizzie, it wasn't what it looked like," Gordo said.  
  
That did it. Resolution thrown out the window. With surprising skill, I leapt out of bed and faced them in an angry stance. "Oh, so you *didn't* have your tongue shoved down her throat."  
  
They glanced at each other guiltily for a fraction of a second. "Just out of curiosity, what story were you two planning on feeding me? One of you was choking, and you were performing mouth-to-mouth? You were rehearsing for a school play? It was an accident? No, really, Gordo, what tired excuse were you going to pull out of your ass and give me? *You're* supposed to be the smart, creative one...what was it?" I waited expectantly while he sought for words.  
  
Finally he sighed, his shoulders slumping, and he didn't even have the decency to meet my eyes. Not that I would have wanted him to. "Okay, you're right. It was what it looked like. Miranda and I were kissing."  
  
"Get out."  
  
"Lizzie, come on, we didn't mean to hurt you. We weren't *planning* it or anything, it just *happened*."  
  
"Heard it before in a teen movie, Miranda. Don't try to pull some crap on me. You're a slut," I said, pointing at Miranda, "and you're a vicious scumbag," ending on Gordo. "Now get out."  
  
They gazed at me with sad puppy dog eyes, but I was too dead inside to have it affect me. "Get out," I repeated, and this time, they complied. Third time's the charm, after all.  
  
I shut my door after their retreating backs, returned to my original position on the bed, and fell asleep within seconds. 


	3. Two

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
The next day at school, as I stepped out of my mom's car, I realized the full weight of my plight. Not only were my two closest friends in the world the scummiest human beings alive, but they were also my entire social circle. And by casting them aside, I was left with the option of finding a new group -- and quickly. I couldn't be the only one left alone.  
  
I glanced around the hallway. I saw Tudgeman and Veruca chatting animatedly at the Tudge's locker. As I stepped closer, I heard the word "Gordo". I continued on my trek as though I didn't see them.  
  
Reaching my locker, I saw her out of the corner of my eye. Kate Sanders.  
  
Kate used to be a sweet person. Then all of a sudden she transformed into the worlds' biggest bitch. Unfeeling, uncaring, concerned only for herself and her own popularity. She didn't let anyone get close enough to hurt her, and by doing so, people wanted all the more to be close to her.  
  
She had that self-confidence, that unattainableness that I so desperately needed for myself. I had to become her.  
  
Slamming my locker shut, I walked over to hers and leaned on the wall next to it. She looked at me distastefully. "*Lost*, Losie?"  
  
I remained stoic. I had to prove that I was willing to shed my good girl image, my annoying naivety, everything that *she* used to be and had shed.  
  
I saw my opportunity. Larry was walking past, having part ways with Veruca at his locker. I fixed a sickly sweet smile on my face, the kind that Kate was infamous for, right before she ripped out your soul. "Oh, Tudge, is that a new shirt?" I didn't even give him time to consider what I'd said. "Oops. I thought I was talking to someone with *actual* fashion sense and hygiene habits. My apologies."  
  
"Lizzie..?" Tudgeman said, looking more shocked and confused than anything.  
  
I forced my heart to freeze over. I didn't want to hurt Tudgeman, he was a sweet guy, but it had to be done. The old Lizzie was history. Instead of meeting his eyes, I tossed my hair and looked away distastefully, a clear cut indicator that this conversation was *over*. For a few seconds, I could feel his eyes boring into me, felt the weight of that hurt stare. I ignored it, and he moved on.  
  
Kate looked at me semi-approvingly. "Nice one, McGuire."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
"You know, you show real potential."  
  
I cocked an eyebrow at her, and my voice stayed coolly detached. Disinterested. "Do I?" I could play this game just as well as she could.  
  
"Yeah. I'd always pegged you as an insufferable goody-goody, but clearly I was mistaken."  
  
"Clearly," I agreed, and we were walking to class together.  
  
I walked into biology side by side with Kate Sanders, and Gordo and Miranda, sitting as far away from each other as they could, looked at me in alarm. I ignored them and sat with Kate. We ignored the teacher all through class, giggling and chatting about inconsequential things. If anyone dared approach us, we shot them down with a withering stare, sometimes a catty remark. I loved this new process. Don't let anyone get close.  
  
When the bell rang, Gordo had the audacity to approach. Miranda, seeing this, lurked by the doorway, ready to run to his aide, more likely ready to get the hell out. Cowardice. I could smell it across the room, and I thrived on that. She was afraid of me now. Afraid of what I had become. Good. She should be. She had driven me to this.  
  
"Lizzie, can we talk?" Gordo said in a voice that was quiet and uncertain.  
  
I looked to Kate, blatantly avoiding his stare. "Did you hear something?"  
  
"Nothing," she agreed with a triumphant look at Gordo.  
  
I got up out of my seat, and shoved my notebook in my bag. "Please, Lizzie, I just want to explain."  
  
I dared to look at him; he looked pitiful. Remorseful. For the briefest of seconds, I felt sorry for him...then I realized I should've been feeling sorry for me. He was all whiny because I'd cast him aside? Too damn bad. He'd cast me aside first. He'd chosen *her* over me. He'd lied, he'd made empty promises, and worst of all, I'd believed every word. It was unforgivable. "Oh, I'm sorry, I don't speak Loser," I said, brushing past him, and then Miranda, and into the hallway as a new person. 


	4. Three

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
I had no more classes with Kate that day, but I joined her and her cronies at lunch. They seemed confused at my presence, but a few empty compliments of their outfits, and a few snide comments directed at Hillridge's nerd population, and I was in.  
  
The code to being cool was being followed. Kate Sanders was followed. Followed, admired, worshiped, feared, respected, loved, hated. I didn't want to be one of Kate's lackeys. I wanted to be Kate. Be the next Kate. I wanted to have people speak the name Lizzie McGuire the same way they spoke the name Kate Sanders. I wanted Kate to be *my* lackey.  
  
But it was a matter of time. And although it went against my newly-acquired set of principals, I showed up at Kate's locker after school like any other lackey.  
  
Although, *unlike* any other lackey, I had an agenda. She was alone when I sidled up to her. "Kate, I want a spot on the squad."  
  
She looked at me like I'd grown a second head. Today I'd earned the acceptance and grudging respect of the in crowd, but it was proper form to at least wait a month before even *thinking* of making the demands I was making. "Um, excuse me?" she said.  
  
"I want to try out."  
  
Kate laughed. "Yeah, McGuire, you can try out. How about with the rest of the wannabes at the beginning of next year."  
  
I fixed her with one of my son-to-be-patented evil stares. "How about *now*."  
  
I was the newbie. Kate was the master. But I spoke with such authoritativeness that she actually backed down. Who knew I had it in me? Gordo and Miranda certainly didn't. They'd underestimated me. Everyone had underestimated me. It was time to show people who Lizzie McGuire really was.  
  
"Y--yeah," she stammered, not sure what to make of any of this. "Listen, I'll talk to the girls at practice, and I'll see what I can do."  
  
"See to it," I said, and walked away. A few more rules. Always be the first one to walk away, and don't look back. Looking back is weakness. You have power; *assert it*.  
  
****  
  
Keep them scared is what I've learned from Kate. Along with hating her, I always secretly feared her. Feared what she could do to my reputation, feared what she could do to me.  
  
Now the cheerleaders had fear. Kate had somehow finagled me a tryout the next afternoon, and I was out there, wowing them. Fear. I was thriving on their fear and confusion. I was just little Lizzie McGuire, not cut out to be a cheerleader. I didn't have the vivaciousness, I didn't have the me-first attitude, I wasn't like the rest of them. Or so they thought.  
  
Another preconception they had of me that I was clumsy, that I could hardly walk two feet without falling on my face. That wasn't totally true. I *had* been in rhythmic gymnastics, and while I was a klutz most anywhere else, on the mat I was a goddess. I had skills, I had voice, I had back flips up the wazoo, I had finesse, I had poise that Miranda Sanchez could only *dream* of. Fear me. Love me.  
  
They did both. They burst into applause when my routine was finished, and I had them. I was one of them. I sauntered up to them, smiling, confident. "How'd I do?" I said breezily, inspecting my nails as if I didn't care one way or another.  
  
"Fantastic," Anissa, the captain, said. Admiration glittered in her eyes. "Much better than we expected, considering your...ah...*reputation*," she finished in a hushed tone.  
  
I shrugged. "Don't always believe what you hear." Even though everything they'd ever heard was probably true.  
  
"We'll let you know tomorrow," another girl, Lindsey, said, but she said it with such awe that I knew I'd made it.  
  
After changing in the locker room, I strutted down the hallway. It was empty, school was done and over, but I owned this hallway. I *owned* it. And tomorrow I would own it even more, a cheerleader, the top of the top, the best of the best, the creme de la creme.  
  
Who hangs out at the school after hours? It's not who you'd expect. Yeah, sure, it's still the nerds and the chess team and the math club geeks. But it's also the jocks and the cheerleaders, busting their butts at practice so they can continue to claim that glory on the field that gives them that glory everywhere else. Tomorrow morning I would be one of them, the new cheerleader who'd finagled an audition in the middle of the year, and had gotten on the squad. I would have that glory. I would have that power.  
  
I would rise above David Gordon. 


	5. Four

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
As I strode to my locker the following morning, a slew of people brushed past me, oozing with praise and admiration. The air was ripe with the smell of suck-up, but I wasn't tired of the adoration. As I spun my combination, I calculated how many eyes were on me.  
  
Kate was the first on the squad to approach me. "Like you didn't already know, but you made the squad."  
  
"Of course I made the squad," I said evenly, pretending like reorganizing the order of my textbooks was the most fascinating task in the world, while inside, I was doing spastic back flips. It was still hard to quell the inner Lizzie, the prototype Lizzie, the Lizzie that I was casting aside for better horizons.  
  
The old Lizzie was eager to please, the old Lizzie wanted to be loved, the old Lizzie was desperate and pathetic and sad. The old Lizzie was naive.  
  
The new Lizzie didn't care about you. She didn't care if you got hurt, she especially didn't care if she was the one doing the hurting. The new Lizzie had been betrayed by the two people she cared most about and was out for blood. The new Lizzie knew that people could not be trusted, that friends were as fake as Anissa's nose. Kate Sanders had always known that, and now Kate was popular. People did her bidding. She wasn't loved, but she was feared and respected and soon I would be, too.  
  
*Screw* the old Lizzie and everything she ever stood for. You could only count on yourself. You had to look out for number one.  
  
"The girls were really blown away by you," Kate continued, and I marveled at the way she called them 'the girls'; like they were some tight little group, when in actuality they only hung out with each other to make themselves look good. It's all about who you know. Which would explain why until today, I was a social nothing.  
  
"Hey, Lizzie," drawled Danny Kessler with a wink as he strolled past. I gave him a smile, but it was polite and very clearly said I wasn't interested. I could do *way* better than Danny Kessler.  
  
Kate watched him walk away and nodded slightly, like she was approving my decision to not be lured in by Danny Kessler. "So, I'm supposed to tell you that your first practice is after school today--" she started, but was cut off when Miranda and Gordo appeared at my elbow like only the most annoying dogs begging for scraps at the table.  
  
"Lizzie, can we talk?" Gordo said, while Miranda remained meekly stoic.  
  
"How many times have I heard *that* phrase?" I said, both bored and disgusted. "You're like a broken record."  
  
"Please?" Miranda contributed in this pathetic little voice. For the briefest flash of a second, I was concerned. Where was that uber-confident Miranda I used to know? The one who fought back with everything she had? It was like I'd stolen all of her confidence for myself. Well, tough. She wasn't getting it back. She should've thought about the repercussions before she decided to make out with my boyfriend in a public place.  
  
With a patronizing sigh, I rolled my eyes, shut my locker, and turned to them. "You have, like, five seconds," I said.  
  
I expected gushing apologies. What I got instead was Gordo saying, "We heard you tried out for cheerleading."  
  
"Try hearing that I *made* the squad," I said pointedly.  
  
"Why would you do that?" Miranda asked, glancing briefly with distaste at Kate. That was the Miranda I knew. Maybe it was just me she couldn't stand up to anymore.  
  
"Because I *wanted* to."  
  
"Listen, we're really sorry about every--" Gordo began, but I checked my naked wrist like I was wearing a watch.  
  
"Oops, time's up. Thanks for playing our game, though," I snarled, then turned to Kate. "Let's go. I don't know if geek is catching, but I don't want to stick around long enough to find out."  
  
Striding away, however, one foot in the grave of my former life, I had to fight the urge to look over my shoulder to catch their reaction. Were they worried about me? Were they thrilled to be rid of me so they could be together?  
  
Why did I even care?  
  
****  
  
"So what's the deal with Sanchez and the Gordork?" Kate asked me as we sat in class.  
  
"Same deal as it's always been," I said. "They're total losers."  
  
"True, but that never bothered you before," she said. I'd forgotten how...*Kate* Kate could be. This morning it had almost seemed like *I* was in charge, the way she just stood back and fed me lines, the way I used to do to her. Now things were back to normal --as normal as they would ever get, all things considered-- and I found myself wishing to be the top dog again. "There must be some dirt."  
  
"Don't you have some little wannabe to order around?" I answered coolly. "Claire hasn't licked your shoes in awhile."  
  
Kate cocked an eyebrow, but said nothing. Whether it was because she knew enough to back off, or because she figured that she could make me crack later, or because the teacher chose that moment to walk into the room, I'll never know. I don't care to know.  
  
In the front row, Gordo and Miranda were sitting next to each other. They weren't talking. They weren't passing notes. They had come in together, but they didn't leave together. Maybe it *was* just an accident, and maybe it meant nothing.  
  
Throughout all of this, the few times I'd allowed him to speak to me, Gordo had said nothing but meaningless tidbits like "I never meant to hurt you" and "It was a mistake." But he hadn't said "I still love you." Maybe if he had...  
  
No, not even if he had. Not even that could erase what he'd done, not even professing his love could erase the world of hurt he'd created. I'd trusted him. I'd loved him. And what had it left me with? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.  
  
The thing that killed me was, I hadn't *deserved* it. I was only just now on my quest to be a grade-A bitch. Before I had still been adoring, naive little Lizzie McGuire, following Gordo like a puppy dog, the way he had followed me in middle school. How the tables had turned.  
  
Gordo glanced over his shoulder, a mournful look at me. I deliberately snubbed him, turning my head so quickly that my hair bounced against my face. How dare he look at me like that? How *dare* he? I felt hot anger surging within me. I wanted him to pay. I wanted him to suffer.  
  
I was surprised at my vehemence, especially directed at someone I loved so much.  
  
The notion stunned me.  
  
But as I thought it over...yes, I still loved him. How could I not? He'd ripped out my heart, but he was the first person that I'd ever given it to. The only person. He'd accepted me for who I was, and had loved me even though he knew the real me, the true Lizzie that I'd since rejected.  
  
Then he'd gotten bored with Lizzie McGuire. So I'd gotten bored with Lizzie McGuire.  
  
And then the Lizzie McGuire everyone knew and walked over was no more.  
  
I didn't love Gordo; I hated him. Loathed him. Despised him. He was the bane of my existence.  
  
Hate, hate, hate.  
  
How would you like to cry, David Gordon? Cry like you made me cry? How would you like to feel dead inside, to have lost everything? How would you like it?  
  
Would you like to find out?  
  
My mind was spinning with plots and schemes, and ways to make him suffer. Ways to make them *both* suffer. Miranda wasn't immune, either. She'd probably talked him into doing it in the first place. They both had a vendetta against me, they wanted to make me hurt. My best friends. The two people I loved and trusted more than anything.  
  
Not anymore. 


	6. Five

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
Within a week, *everyone* knew who I was. I was the girl who'd gotten a tryout in the middle of the season, made the squad, and would be captain if not for the fact that there was already a captain, and they believed in seniority. I was that good.  
  
I was perky, I was early for all practices, I was commanding, I was a leader. I was respected and feared, and don't think I didn't notice those sad little looks Gordo would shoot me during classes. Miranda just wandered the halls like a ghost, and I knew that I was responsible for both reactions. I felt proud, mighty.  
  
They weren't the only ones affected by the new Lizzie. Parker, though we were never close friends, stopped speaking to me altogether. Not that I minded. I'd never liked her, never trusted her, especially after Gordo had asked her to that dance. Even after she'd turned him down, I'd never trusted her. I never would've suspected that it was my own best friend I couldn't trust.  
  
Tudgeman started treating me the same way he always used to treat Kate. Keeping his distance, making snide comments at her and my expense (not that anyone listened to him except his own little geek cronies), but watched her (and now me) in class when he thought no one was looking. I knew why he was staring. It wasn't just because we were gorgeous, not just because we were gods among men. It was because he knew us both when we were sweet girls, and suspected that underneath the angry exterior, we were still the people he once knew.  
  
Maybe Kate was. I wasn't.  
  
I now had the benefits of hordes of admirers, which included Ethan Craft.  
  
I'd given up on Ethan Craft after the eighth grade. He was pretty, he was popular, he was a nice guy, but he was as dumb as a brick wall and considerably less useful. But now, he was the ultimate accessory to compliment my perfect new image. We were already sort-of friends. All I had to do was ensure that he took that next step.  
  
"Ethan," I said, coming up to his locker between classes. "I have something to talk to you about."  
  
"Yeah?" he said with a genial smile.  
  
"I think you and I should go together to the dance next weekend."  
  
Ethan blinked at me. "Uh, Lizzie, that's nice and all, but I, uh...remember last year, when we said that we were gonna be just friends? That we had no, uh...what was...what was that word, again? With the potions, and stuff?"  
  
"Chemistry?" I supplied dryly. We'd been through this before.  
  
"Yeah, that!" he said. "Chemistry. We just don't have any of that, you know?"  
  
"That was then, this is now," I said. "Don't you think we're much better friends than before?"  
  
He nodded.  
  
"So why not? I mean, who are you waiting around for, Kate?"  
  
Ethan's brow knitted, and looked like he was on the verge of constipation, the way he always looked when he was thinking really hard. "Me and Kate--" he started.  
  
"I hate to break it to you, Ethan, but Kate pretty much said that you were the world's stupidest human being and the only reason she ever gave you the time of day was because you were popular." Which, in essence, was true, although Kate had never phrased it exactly that way. Of course, she could have said outright that she loved Ethan Craft desperately, he was her soul mate, they were going to get married someday, and I would've done it all anyway. I didn't care anymore. Not about her feelings, not about Ethan's feelings, not about anyone's feelings. When was the last time anyone gave regard to *my* feelings? Was Gordo really thinking 'this is going to make Lizzie feel like the most worthless human being alive' when he was sucking face with Miranda? Of course not.  
  
Besides, that whole 'soul mates' bit was a crock.  
  
Ethan looked like someone had run over his dog, and for a split second, I almost felt guilty about manipulating his feelings this way. Almost.  
  
I put on my most sincere, apologetic face and put my hand on his shoulder in a supportive gesture. "I'm sorry you have to hear about this, Ethan, I'm sorry you have to hear it from me, really I am, but I thought it would be better that you find out the truth now, before Kate breaks your heart." I looked up at him sadly, and added, "You're my *friend*, Ethan."  
  
"Yeah," he mumbled.  
  
"Listen, you can't let this get you down. You and I will go to the dance together--a just friends thing," I amended quickly. "You'll have a great time, and you'll show Kate Sanders that you're better off without her."  
  
"Yeah, okay."  
  
I smiled at him, and he tentatively smiled back, and I gave him a hug. This was just the sort of thing the old Lizzie would have done, helped out a friend. The new Lizzie was just a little more conniving about it. And for once in my life, I was actually going to benefit. 


	7. Six

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
When I waltzed into the decked-out gym the following Friday night on the arm of Ethan Craft, easily the most popular freshman, and arguably one of the most popular people in the whole of Hillridge High, the looks I got were admiring (from the guys), envious (from the girls), and disapproving/disgusted (from my *former* friends). Immediately my fellow cheerleaders latched onto me, gossipy, cooing over my dress and shoes and hair and date.  
  
Kate joined in on the fawning, seeing as how I ranked much higher than her on the Chutes and Ladders game that was our social life, and to her credit, she never said a word about Ethan. Had it been anyone else, she would have reamed them out, because Ethan is Kate Sanders' territory. Only, not anymore. Ethan, on the other hand, didn't look at Kate so much as once the entire night, a fact which I'm sure irritated her immensely, and gave me considerable pleasure. Those years of Kate tormenting me with her 'relationship' with Ethan were over. It was my turn to dish out the pain.  
  
Eventually our little clique broke up so that the cheerleaders could dance with their dates and make a spectacle of themselves. Ethan and I, however, hung around the punch bowl while he told me some insipid little story about this concert he'd gone to. I'd nodded and smiled and told him how fascinating it was, but I'd tuned out early on. I kept my eyes on his until the intervals where he'd gaze off into space or gesture elaborately, in which I'd flick my gaze around the gym, seeing who was there, who wasn't, and most importantly, who was staring at me. (The answer to the latter question was, of course, everybody.)  
  
However, even with the sweet spot of my vantage point, I wasn't able to look a full three hundred sixty degrees around me. And Ethan was really too dumb to think of warning me, so I was caught unawares when someone tapped me on the shoulder. I whirled around, determined to ream out whoever was interrupting my date, but I was stunned into silence to see Gordo there.  
  
Gordo, my ex-boyfriend who'd sworn off dances after eighth grade because he felt they put too much pressure on the 'average male' to be above average. A society thing, or whatever. That was Gordo, always so freakin' political.  
  
So needless to say, I wasn't expecting to see him there, and my carefully built walls crumbled as I stared at him, taking in the way his hair was perfectly imperfect, how he was adorable in a dress shirt and a jacket that was a size too big for him.  
  
Then just as quickly my anger surged again, washing away the nostalgia and the blind puppy love. I glared at him. "What are *you* doing here?"  
  
"More importantly than that, what are *you* doing here with *him*?" Gordo asked, glancing over my shoulder at Ethan, who smiled and nodded amicably.  
  
"Ethan's my date," I growled, clutching his arm possessively. Which was a bad move on my part, it indicated weakness and a fierce desire to claim my date, which would subtly reveal to the others that I was insecure, that I was unworthy, that I couldn't hold onto a date. Which totally wasn't true.  
  
I'd worked my ass off to get where I was, and I wasn't about to let that slide because after weeks of the silent treatment, my *ex*-boyfriend decided to step into my life again.  
  
I dropped Ethan's arm, but didn't drop my cold tone. "You're not the only one who can move on," I said in a hiss.  
  
Gordo looked hurt, he actually had hurt flashing in his eyes. "I didn't move on, Lizzie. Honestly, I didn't. It was a mistake, okay? A stupid, stupid mistake that I'd give everything to take back. Lizzie, if I could rewind time..."  
  
I refused to get lured into the web of sentimentality he was weaving me. He was pushing my buttons, the ones years of practice had taught him to push when he was backed into a corner. Next thing I knew, he'd probably be waving a poster of a sad-looking puppy. Well, nothing doing. "If you could rewind time, you'd do *what*, exactly? Never go out with me in the first place, be with the one you really wanted to be with? Miranda?"  
  
He reeled back as though he'd been slapped. "What? Listen, Lizzie, I--"  
  
Suddenly I noticed a few curious eyes directed our way. I was not about to have a public row with the loser king, not in the height of my popularity. I grabbed Gordo's arm and started to stalk out of the gym, barking a fierce order at Ethan, "Stay right here. Don't talk to anyone."  
  
I realized too late as we stepped into the abandoned hallway that bringing Gordo out here was like admitting defeat in a small way. I wasn't as strong as I'd originally thought, apparently, because if I was anything like Kate Sanders I would've dragged his name through the mud in a very public manner. And wasn't that what I'd been hoping to do from the start? Why was the sudden reappearance of David Gordon tugging at my heartstrings?  
  
"Whatever you have to say, you can say it here," I said tonelessly. "I have an image to maintain, thank you very much."  
  
"Lizzie, I never *chose* Miranda over you. Okay? I...I don't want to badmouth Miranda, especially not to save my own skin, but Liz, you have to know the truth. *She* kissed *me*, okay? I didn't kiss her back. I swear." He looked guilty, and I knew why. He was selling out his relationship with his closest friend (closest now that I had removed myself from the picture), just for me. For us.  
  
I didn't know what to do. Old Lizzie and New Lizzie were battling for my soul, right there in the hallway outside of the gym. Should I trust him? Or would he just break my heart again? Would I be that sort of girl who kept going back to the guy that beat her, because I foolishly believed it would get better?  
  
"Please, Lizzie, you have to believe me. I still love you. I never stopped loving you."  
  
I raised my eyes to meet his, and they pleaded with me silently. I was so lost in that stare that I never heard the gym door swing open, but I did hear the sudden thrush of hip hop disturbing the stillness of the hall. "Lizzie, is there some sort of problem?" Kate asked, glaring disdainfully at Gordo. "Some sort of *trash* you need removed?"  
  
Stay with Gordo, reclaim my old life, fall back in love with the boy that I'd never really stopped loving. Be virtually unnoticed and/or largely ostracized.  
  
Go with Kate, continue my life of power and acclaim, of respect and love from people other than Gordo and my parents, *scores* of people. Be feared, but never getting close to anyone, ever.  
  
They were both staring at me expectantly, waiting. Both thinking that they knew exactly what I would choose. How could they both know so well when I had no clue? 


	8. Seven

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
If I hesitated a second later, I would have lost one option entirely. One more second of pause, of reflection, and Kate would have flounced back through those doors, ready to reclaim her crown again and announce to everyone how she'd seen Queen Lizzie falter. More likely than not, she'd make up some rumor at my expense and I'd be ruined forever at the school.  
  
"Lizzie..?" Gordo said softly, and his voice was so plaintive, so scared, so inherently pathetic that my vote was cast that very instant.  
  
"Save your love for someone who wants it," I snarled at him, and followed Kate into the gym.  
  
Everything was different now, it was though as I was seeing things in a new, weird light. All this time I'd been vaguely tied to my past, one hand still clinging to some sort of umbilical cord. I'd just severed it now. Gordo would not give me a third chance.  
  
Did I even *want* a third chance?  
  
The indecisiveness confused and frightened me. There were moments where I hated him unlike I'd ever hated anything before. So much emotion, so much raw passion was poured into that hatred, and it was sincere.  
  
But there were other moments, though they were few and far between, where I deeply regretted everything. Late at night, lying underneath my sheets, a gentle breeze floating through the room, I'd stare into the darkness and wish I could take it all back, go back to the very moment before I'd seen what I'd seen. I would never have turned my head, never have seen the betrayal. I never would have renounced who I was, never have become this monster I was now.  
  
In those moments, I still loved Miranda, was still deeply in love with Gordo. And I wondered if I would ever be fully out of love with David Gordon.  
  
But that was all gone now. I had blown my very last chance with him, and I was so consumed by anger that I didn't know what to do with myself. I was angry at myself, for screwing up the life I had known and loved, and so instead I directed that anger at the only person who could have saved me from it. As Gordo returned dejectedly to the gym, headed for the exit, I placed myself in his path, and squared off against him.  
  
"I'm not done with you," I said. "I finally figured out your game, Gordo. You want what you can't have. You only wanted me when I was your best friend and you weren't supposed to love me. And then when you had me, you wanted *my* best friend. And now that I'm popular, suddenly you want me again."  
  
He gaped at me, the hurt and confusion in his eyes a hacksaw that was tearing up any links between us. "That's not true and you know it, Lizzie."  
  
"Oh, isn't it."  
  
"No, it isn't." He was being so ridiculously calm about this, and all of a sudden I found myself wanting him to cry.  
  
"You're disgusting," I proclaimed. "You're nothing but a little leech. I can't believe I ever *knew* you."  
  
"What's wrong with you?" he blurted, and said the thing I'd been expecting him to say ever since this whole fiasco started, not that I'd ever wanted to hear it. "This isn't you, this vindictive bitch queen. You've turned into Kate."  
  
"Get out of my face, Gordo. You don't know me. You never have." Unable to say anymore, suddenly overwhelmed with the full weight of his statement, I turned away from him and once again landed at Ethan's side.  
  
"Sorry about that," I said, although apologizing wasn't really the Kate thing to do.  
  
The Kate thing. This entire time I'd been modeling myself after Kate Sanders. Gordo was one hundred percent right, and it killed me.  
  
"What's the 411?" Ethan asked. "I thought you and Gordon were buds."  
  
"You thought wrong," I snapped, the exhaustion immediately replaced by anger. "Listen, are we going to waste the rest of the night talking about the dork population of the school? Who did you come here with, David Gordon, or me?"  
  
His brow furrowed, like he seriously didn't know the answer to the question. "You," he said finally.  
  
"Damn right you did, and don't forget that. Let's dance."  
  
As we made our way to the floor, it occurred to me that people had been watching me all night. First when I'd arrived with Ethan Craft, then when Gordo approached me, then when Gordo and I left together, then when I reamed him out in front of everyone, and now as I took my place beside Ethan, still the queen. I never imagined this magnitude of public scrutiny when I'd first dreamed about this popularity. I'd always sort of pictured it as people catching only your best moments. No one saw it if you tripped, or stammered, or had embarrassing fights with your ex-best friend/boyfriend in the middle of a school dance. But popularity wasn't like that at all. People saw your best moments, sure, but everyone was watching you the rest of the time too, just waiting for you to screw it up and be dethroned.  
  
I'd proved my worth, though. I'd blown off a geek in an embarrassing manner (for him), and kept my title for another day. 


	9. Eight

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
Now that my past with Gordo was but a whisper of memory, and my future with him nonexistent, I still had Miranda to deal with. The ex-best friend, the temptress who'd stolen my boyfriend. There were two ways I could go about this. There was, of course, my ruination of her good name, leaving her a broken shell, an empty husk, with only Gordo to go crying to.  
  
That wasn't good enough. Not for the slut who'd ruined me. The best course of action was to drive a wedge permanently between her and Gordo, so that they not only lost me, but they lost each other and were sad and alone.  
  
It seemed vicious and vindictive. It seemed fitting. As the adage goes, 'mess with the best and die like the rest.' I was the queen, and soon I would make them the scum under my shoe. Complete social lepers.  
  
I spent the weekend plotting. Well, to be more accurate, I spent the weekend with Kate and her cronies, who were now my cronies, wandering aimlessly about the mall, buying things that we would only care about for a week, cruelly mocking anyone we believed to be beneath us. Which was, of course, everybody. But while I was smiling and laughing, underneath I was scheming and planning.  
  
So come Monday, I knew which would be the best route to take in my quest for greatness. Kate met me at my locker like she now did every morning faithfully, like a little puppy dog. I smiled and chatted, but my heart wasn't in it. (Sometimes I wonder if my heart ever *was* in it.) Mentally I was steeling myself for what was to come.  
  
Gordo wasn't in class first period. I was glad to not see his face, proud of a job well done. What I had said must have really stuck with him, and now he had some deep, spiritual cleansing and character-evaluating to do. How ridiculously Gordo of him. A few well-place words, and he was just as afraid and insecure as the rest of them.  
  
In a way, though, I was also glad not to see him because seeing him would be a reminder of what I'd done...who I was.  
  
When the bell rang dismissing us from class, I told Kate to go ahead, I'd meet her later. While humiliating Miranda in public would be fun, it wasn't part of my plan --not yet, anyway. What I was going to do would be done away from prying eyes.  
  
Miranda didn't know what to do with herself. She'd been distancing herself from Gordo from the beginning, but even she couldn't stay that far away from the only person still talking to her. But without him here, she truly was alone. She lagged behind the other students, waiting until she was left alone. She must not have seen me in the back of the room. As she started for the door, I made my presence known. "Miranda."  
  
She looked up sharply, scanned the room, saw me, and froze in place. She backed away from the doorway, slightly towards the corner. I wonder if she knew she was doing it. I wonder if she knew what she looked like, stepping away from me, afraid of me. We used to be the best of friends, now she cowered when she saw me. Pathetic. This was *not* the Miranda I knew, that was for sure. But I wasn't the Lizzie anyone knew, either.  
  
"You weren't at the dance Friday night," I said, my tone almost pleasant, my expression concerned.  
  
Miranda's eyes darted around the empty room for a second, a perplexed look on her face. Clearly she didn't know how to deal with me being nice again.  
  
"Uh...no." After a pause, she swallowed, and (incorrectly) sensing it was okay, added softly, "Gordo was supposed to come over to watch a movie, but he never showed."  
  
Oh, what a huge mistake she was making, trusting me again. I nodded understandingly, and stepped closer, hugging my books to my chest in a gesture that was very closed-off, very old-Lizzie. She saw this and responded positively to it, straightening up slightly. I smiled gently. "You know where he was?" I asked, in a conversational tone.  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"He was at the dance," I said, and instantly, all friendliness dropped from my voice. "With me."  
  
Her eyes widened, and she seemed to realize that she'd stepped right into a trap, but by this point I was between her and the door, so she had no choice but to ride it out.  
  
"Yeah, we had a great conversation," I continued ruthlessly. "Very deep. You know what he said?"  
  
Miranda looked like the last thing she wanted was to know what he said.  
  
"He said --imagine this-- he said that *you* kissed *him*. Funny story, isn't it?" I said, smiling almost innocently as color drained from her face and was replaced by horror. "He completely sold you out, Sanchez. He tossed away your good name for one more chance with me."  
  
The school erupted with the sound of the late bell. "Oops, that's the bell," I said. "Ciao!"  
  
I flapped my hand at her in a casual wave and strode out of the room confidently, not concerned in the slightest about being late to my next class. Behind me, I knew Miranda was feeling scared and confused, lost and angry.  
  
And I loved it. 


	10. Nine

Disclaimer: I don't own it!  
  
Summary: it's the gang's sophomore year of high school, but when Lizzie finds out what Gordo did, she completely changes.  
  
***Reap What You Sow***  
  
The planets must have been aligning in my favor, because I was privy to a huge blowout the next day after school. I was running late, having spent far too much time flirting with Ethan after history class. Did I flirt with Ethan because I was particularly infatuated with Ethan? God, no. I'd long since been over Ethan, ever since I'd seen that there was much better for me out there. Since I'd seen Gordo for who he was.  
  
Now that I was seeing him for *what* he was, however, I was back to Ethan. And let me tell you, my association with Ethan was a thorn in a lot of sides. It bugged the hell out of Kate Sanders, who used to be the name everyone came to associate with Ethan's. I'd insured that that was no longer the case. It *really* irritated Gordo and Miranda, and was somewhat humiliating to Gordo, to boot. Half the cheerleading squad was annoyed with me, the other half was proud and impressed. Ethan was *the* It Boy of the Hillridge High freshman class, was popular enough that even upperclassmen were drooling over him, and would in enough time, own the school.  
  
The same could be said for my rising star, and with Ethan by my side, there would be no stopping me.  
  
We weren't an item, not exactly. We were together often enough that everyone assumed, and Ethan was too stupid and I was too power-hungry to refute it.  
  
As I was saying, though, after I'd conned Ethan into coming with me to Anissa's party that coming Friday, I was running late for practice. I stopped off at my locker to get my duffel bag, and happened to hear a commotion coming from the next room. My curiosity was piqued, and I wondered what I might come across. Maybe someone had been caught cheating. Or maybe some sort of illicit affair was going on. Nothing to put me in good standing with the elite like some juicy gossip.  
  
But what I got was better than either of those. I peered around the corner, seeing but unseen. Miranda and Gordo were in an empty classroom, having a fight.  
  
"You *sold* me *out*, Gordon," Miranda hissed, using his last name like a school bully would, picking on the class nerd. "How could you? Years of friendship, and you're willing to throw that aside so you could get back together with the devil queen?"  
  
'The devil queen?' That was new.  
  
"I've known Lizzie since *birth* Miranda, and she means more to me than you'll ever know." I tried not to let those words affect me, but they did spark something deep within me. That regret, that sorrow, that well of negative emotions that lurked beneath the surface.  
  
"Yeah, if that was true, then why did you kiss me?" she spat in return. "And don't bother lying to me, I was there. *You* kissed *me*, David Gordon."  
  
My heart sank. Which indicated at the very least that I still had one.  
  
Every accusation I'd flung at Gordo was true. He had cheated on me. He'd cheated, he'd lied, he'd broken my damn heart. All my life I'd been putting him up on some kind of pedestal. He was ethical, he was moral, he was intelligent and caring, and now my little idolized version of him crumbled. He was nothing but a ruined statue, the dust floating away in the wind.  
  
"What was it, huh?" Miranda said with that spark that I'd thought for sure she'd lost. It ignited again in his silence. "Was it just that you were bored with Lizzie?"  
  
"It was a *mistake*," Gordo said, and his voice sounded dead. I found myself wishing that he'd rise up to Miranda's accusations, get angry, defend himself, offer some sort of explanation.  
  
I just wanted an explanation. At that precise moment in time, it all came down to me wanting answers. Wanting to know why her, why Miranda. I'd been torturing myself with the thought that I wasn't good enough, and that had spurred this whole cheerleader-devil-queen situation, this overwhelming desire to *be* good enough, to be *better*. All my life, I'd been on the outskirts of things. No particular talent. Gordo had the brains, Miranda had the moxie. They both had confidence in spades, in themselves, and in me, which was what I fed on, considering I had very little for myself. I'd needed them, needed them to reassure me that I wasn't a complete waste of space. That it was Ethan's fault for overlooking me, and not some flaw of my own.  
  
I didn't need them anymore, though. My brain ran in overdrive, tuning out the argument, though instinct told me I should listen in anyway. In their own weird way, they'd accomplished what they'd always been trying; they had set me free from my own insecurities.  
  
I was the queen bee now, the It Girl, the popular one. Hordes of friends and admirers. Did I make a connection with any of these legions of people like I had with Miranda and Gordo? Of course not. They were minions at best. They loved me because they wanted to be me, wanted to rise to my place, wanted me to help them achieve it. They knew nothing about me. They hadn't given me the time of day when I'd been myself.  
  
Now I *was* myself, though. The vindictiveness, the thirst for status, I'd always had that. I'd simply ignored it. Now I was embracing it.  
  
Without waiting to hear the end of the fight, I shouldered my duffel and head off for the girls' locker room. I was already considerably late for practice, and regardless of my popularity, Anissa would throw a fit.  
  
It was, however, only the beginning. 


End file.
